


Stellar Drift

by Tales2TellU



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, That's Not How The Force Works, deep relationships and fighting monsters, healing each other's trauma, rey and ben are 100 percent compatible okay, star wars characters as jaeger pilots, the star wars/pacific rim au you didn't know you wanted, unlike SOME canon directors I want them to be happy, what's not to love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21898393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tales2TellU/pseuds/Tales2TellU
Summary: When my grandfather couldn’t close the door he’d made, he focused on something to fight whatever came in.  Traditional weapons weren’t enough against kaiju, and every nuke we used only poisoned the earth more.  So to fight the monsters he’d made, Anakin Skywalker made new monsters.He called them jaegers.  Hunters.  Giant humanoid machines meant to fight the kaiju on their own terms.  He even piloted the first one himself, with the original test pilot Ben Kenobi.  My grandfather didn’t fight for long, though.  He left that to his children, and their children after that.Because this is the Skywalker legacy.  My legacy.  Fight, or die.
Relationships: Ben Solo & Han Solo, Finn/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa & Ben Solo, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Poe Dameron & Amilyn Holdo, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. Prologue

_This all started a long time ago._

_My grandfather dreamed of the stars. Of looking up, out there in all that blackness, and finding life. He wanted proof that we weren’t alone. So he experimented with portals, rifts in space and time. But one of his experiments went wrong. He got his proof, in the end._

_Just not the way he thought._

_No one’s entirely sure what he was working on, way out there in the Pacific Ocean. But whatever it was, it turned the Marianas Trench into a doorway. The first kaiju came through it and headed straight for San Francisco, where my grandfather and his family lived. My grandmother died in the attack._

_It took three nukes to finally kill the thing. And just when the world breathed a sigh of relief, another one came through. And another, a year later._

_When my grandfather couldn’t close the door he’d made, he focused on something to fight whatever came in. Traditional weapons weren’t enough against kaiju, and every nuke we used only poisoned the earth more. So to fight the monsters he’d made, Anakin Skywalker made new monsters._

_He called them jaegers. Hunters. Giant humanoid machines meant to fight the kaiju on their own terms. He even piloted the first one himself, with the original test pilot Ben Kenobi. My grandfather didn’t fight for long, though. He left that to his children, and their children after that._

_Because this is the Skywalker legacy. My legacy. Fight, or die._

* * *

**Los Angeles Shatterdome, Year 31 of the Kaiju War**

The moment the alarms sounded, Ben’s feet hit the floor. He wasn’t really awake yet, not at two in the morning, but he was getting there. A quick glance at his monitor hit like a shot of coffee; kaiju stats were rolling across the screen, and just like that, Ben was on _fire_.

“Hey!” He shouted, leaning over to bang on the metal door connecting his room to his copilot’s. “You up, old man? We’ve got movement in the breach!”

The door swung open. His copilot leaned through it, dragging a hand down his much older, craggy face, glaring at Ben through bloodshot eyes. The red and yellow lights of the alarm flashed above his head.

“Yeah kid, I noticed. Damn thing, getting me up this early. What’ve we got?”

“Category Three.” Ben raked a hand through his dark, curly hair, eyes eager, grin nearly feral. “They’re calling it Starkiller.”

“Starkiller?” A roll of the eyes, a grimace. “Where do they come up with this stuff?”

Ben smirked as he pulled a shirt over his head, a dark grey one emblazoned with the logo from the Jaeger Academy. “Weren’t you the one to name your jaeger _Millennium Falcon_ , Han?” 

“Hey!” Han Solo looked, if possible, even grumpier. “That’s _our_ jaeger. And don’t call me ‘Han’. I’m still your father.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ben replied, digging his boots out from under his bunk. As their connecting door swung closed, he called out, “Don’t make us late, old man!”

Han waved him off. “Don’t get cocky, kid.” The door clanked shut behind him.

* * *

Less than five minutes later both Solos marched through the hallways to get suited up. They wore matching brown leather jackets and identical swaggers, Han still waking up while Ben looked like he was trying to melt steel with his gaze alone. Hatches closed and sealed with a hiss behind them as they stepped into the lab where the technicians were waiting.

Getting into the drivesuits always reminded Ben of documentaries he’d seen about medieval knights in armor. They too had had people to attach each specific piece—chest plate, gauntlets—and make certain it was secure. But at least a knight could wear soft clothes or a padded gambeson. Under their white armor, Ben and his father wore skin-tight circuitry suits, designed to receive and transmit impulses between human and jaeger. 

Ben flexed his shoulder muscles as their helmets were finally fitted in place, the relay gel draining from their face plates down to the linkages on their spinal columns. Han took a moment to nod his thanks to the techs for their work, but Ben was already heading out of the drivesuit room to the Conn-Pod. Han rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders ( _Kids these days, what can you do?_ ). The techs chuckled as he followed his son.

Their harnesses lowered into place as the two pilots entered the pod. Ben took the dominant pilot position on the right side of the room, Han the left. They stepped into their foot restraints as more techs connected them to the system. Screwed in, wired up, buckled and bolted, their hemisphere control discs snapped into their hands, Ben’s right, Han’s left.

“Morning, Solos!” A familiar voice called over the communicator.

Ben leaned over to press the receiver button. “Hey R2, how’d they get you up so early?”

Their Mission Controller, Rob Redding, was called R2 by almost everyone who knew him. Ben could almost see the older man’s bald head and blue eyeglasses as he heard him speak.

“You know that can’t run this place without me, the whole thing would fall to pieces.”

“Is that so?” An older female voice interjected over the comm.

“After you, of course, ma’am.” R2 cleared his throat. “Marshall Leia Organa-Solo, on deck.”

Now it was Han’s turn to grin and lean over to the receiver. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he said. “You know, if you wanted me out of bed, you just had to ask. No need for a big show about it.” He winked at his son, who rolled his eyes.

“Han, if you’re not going to take this seriously, I could call in two other perfectly capable pilots,” Leia said. She sounded equal parts exasperated and amused with her husband, as usual.

“Who’s not taking it serious?” Han asked, offended. “We got this. Ready to drop when you are.”

“All right then. Engaging drop.”

With a shudder, their Conn-Pod released, falling on a track to the jaeger below. It was like being on a rollercoaster, soaring to the bottom of a hill, before the brakes caught them, easing them into position. The pod rotated a full three hundred sixty degrees, screwing them into place. Their pod was now the head of a jaeger, Millennium Falcon.

She was a Gen-3, one of the older models still in service, and more than a few people had fondly called her “a piece of junk”. But to her pilots, the silvery-white humanoid machine was beautiful. The Conn-Pod’s viewport was a large circle, the Falcon’s “eye”. As Han flipped a switch, a notification appeared on it that the main engine was now starting up. From outside, the center of the Falcon’s chest would begin spinning, emitting a blue glow. Ben could feel the hum under his feet, the sheer power come to life.

It was time. As the doors of the launch bay opened and the jaeger rolled forward on treads previously reserved for NASA shuttles, Han glanced at Ben.

“Ready, kid?”

Over the comm, R2 had initiated the countdown for the neural handshake. 

Ben nodded. “Born ready, old man.”

Han grunted. “Don’t call me—”

With a surge of electrical impulses along their spines and into their brain stems, both men entered the Drift.

Ben surged past waves of memories. His own, his father’s, all swept by in a blinding blur. If he cared to look, he could watch his own birth, his own childhood from two points of view. But that would be a bad idea. He let them roll on, just trailing his fingers in the river.

_Wonderful girl either I’m gonna kill her or I’m beginning to like her. A tiny courthouse wedding but Leia was wearing white her hair in a long braid piled on her head._

_A little boy with dark curly hair, You’re never home, you’re never here! Father and son, playing with toy jaegers, riding on his father’s back, chasing both his parents when he pretended to be a kaiju._

_So what d’you think of her Han? I don’t know kid I’m trying not to, but he thought of her a lot, his friend’s sister, the way she looked in a flight suit, what should we name the baby not Anakin how about Ben?_

_His face shoved in the mud, the anger like fire it was a bloody nose and he was in trouble. That Solo boy’s trouble they said..._

There. Both felt the connection settle into a balance, and in unison they clenched their fists. The jaeger around them did the same. 

“Right hemisphere, calibrating,” Ben said, lifting his arms into a defensive stance. Han made the same gesture.

“Left hemisphere, calibrating,” said Han. As one, they punched left fist into right palm, Millennium Falcon imitating their every move. Ready to go.

“Alright, boys.” Leia said. “Your orders are to hold the Miracle Mile and keep that thing out of Los Angeles, understood?”

A flicker of Han’s thoughts had Ben looking at their radar screen and frowning at what he saw there. He leaned to press the comm. “Marshall, I’m showing that there’s still boats around the Channel Islands, have we got refugees camping there?”

It was suicidal, but not unheard of. As the rich moved inland, the poor were shoved toward the ocean. Those desperate for a place to bunk down would settle anywhere, even on islands. The nearby Shatterdome and jaegers made some feel that their odds were better. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“They’re not a concern right now. The islands are twelve miles out, you are to hold at ten. You’re protecting a city of four million people, not a few dozen refugees. Is that clear?”

The look Ben and Han exchanged was an old, familiar one. _Don’t tell your mother._

“Understood,” Han was the one who replied, grinning at his son. “Wish us luck, sweetheart.”

“Good hunting, boys. Stay safe.”

Millennium Falcon strode out into the sea, the night sky ahead flashing with lightning. Accompanied by two helicopters, they headed into the storm.

* * *

The visitor’s center on Anacapa Island was equipped with an emergency siren long before kaiju appeared, but when it blared now the campers knew it could only mean one thing.

People tore out of their tents, some with small children, and ran for the visitor’s center. Those that had boats ran for the pier, not thinking about trying to navigate through stormy waters at night. The panic was almost a living thing gripping people’s hearts and lungs, the siren its voice. 

Between flashes of lightning, there was suddenly a shape in the water that wasn’t there before. One person pointed it out, yelling, and the entire crowd stilled. When the lightning flashed again, the shape was closer, as if a new island had decided to join the chain.

Then the dark shape reared up out of the water. And up. And up. As rain and seawater poured down its body, the kaiju Starkiller opened bioluminescent eyes, blade-shaped head turning to look at the crowd of tourists huddled on the cliffs in front of it. It roared, a sound of pure primal malice echoing through a body the size of a skyscraper.

The people ran. Starkiller sank its claws into the top of the cliff, the ground crumbling under it as it pulled itself up over the edge. A child screamed.

And then, a horn blared, accompanied by a roll of thunder. The kaiju froze, turned. Helicopters swept overhead, spotlighting the jaeger erupting from the water. Millennium Falcon sounded its horn again. It was a call of challenge, a declaration of intent. As the kaiju snarled, coiling to attack, the jaeger put one fist up while the other beckoned with an open palm.

_Let’s go, ugly._

Starkiller roared, lunging. Falcon sidestepped, smashing their waiting fist into the side of the kaiju’s head. Before the monster could recover, Falcon punched again. The kaiju is knocked into the waves.

It snarled. In the darkness, Ben could see its glowing eyes narrow. Starkiller surged forward, the dagger-like edge of its skull aiming for their torso. Han pulled them back and to the side. Drawing it away from the island, the people. Ben punched, right hand aimed for Starkiller’s head. It saw them coming, mouth opening, teeth gnashing. The punch changed to a hold. Ben felt the echo of teeth biting into his thumb. He grimaced.

_Plasma cannon_ , he thought.

_Not yet, not with the island right behind it._ Han’s voice in his head replied.

_Come on!_

_Get it turned around first!_

His father had a point. But dragging the fight further out to sea would cost them an advantage. Jaegers worked best on solid ground, and the island shelf gave them good footing in shallow water. Turning would take them right off the shelf.

No time to argue.

They threw Starkiller over their hip, stepping into deeper water to piledrive the kaiju down. Ben cocked his arm, prepping his plasma cannon as the kaiju struggled to its feet. When the kaiju lunged, Han held up their other arm to fend it off. It grabbed the charging plasma cannon, pulling.

_What’s it doing?_

_Now! Fire now!_

Ben roared, blasting the cannon once, twice, into the kaiju’s side. Bioluminescent blood sprayed out as Starkiller fell back into the waves, sinking out of sight. 

Leia’s voice crackled over the comm. “What was that? We show an energy pulse miles from where you’re supposed to be!”

“Just going for a little walk, Sweetheart,” Han replied. He grinned at his son, who matched him. “Didn’t think you’d mind if we took out the kaiju while we were at it.”

“You two disobeyed a direct order. When you get back—”

R2’s voice cut in. “We’ve got life signs! That kaiju is not dead!”

The sea rolled around them, dark and relentless. Thunder rumbled overhead as they turned, looking for any sign of the monster. Ben was suddenly aware of just how loud his own breath was. His mother’s voice was yelling, telling them to get out of there.

_I’ve got this,_ he thought. _We can take him._

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Han muttered, letting his son lead as they took a step deeper into the ocean.

The water on Ben’s side exploded. Before they could react, Starkiller struck them across the face, claws leaving deep gouges in the metal. Ben yelled, the pain echoing in their suit’s biofeedback. He cocked his arm, instinctively going for the plasma cannon.

Starkiller lunged.

_Pain._ His arm, no, Falcon’s arm, ripped from its socket. The kaiju dug in with its edged skull, ripping and tearing. Metal screeched, wires popped. Ben screamed, the electronics in his suit burning. Han gasped, feeling the echo on his end.

_Ben! Ben, hold on!_

Falcon punched with its remaining arm, dislodging Starkiller. The kaiju reared up in response, crawling on top of them, claws sinking into the cockpit. Ben could see its eye through their viewport, glowing against the darkness.

_It knows we’re here. How? How does it know we’re here?_

Metal groaned as a massive claw appeared next to Han’s head, sinking into the cockpit. His father looked at him, terror written on his face, vibrating in the Drift.

“Dad!” Ben shouted, his father’s fear amplifying his own. “It’s coming through the hull! What do we do?”

Han glanced at the giant claw, then back at his son. Their eyes locked. “Ben, listen—”

Starkiller roared. The hull gave way. Everything screamed at once—metal, kaiju, men—and then Ben Solo was alone in the cockpit. He cried out, feeling as though his head had been torn open. In a way, it had. The Drift was silent, and where Han Solo had stood was now only a deep gash, an open wound of machinery.

The kaiju pushed him back through the water, the Falcon slamming against the side of a cliff. It jolted Ben through the pain. As Starkiller slashed and ripped at his chest, Ben lifted his good arm. Slow, too slow. Everything was so heavy now, an impossible weight on his body, on his mind. He could feel his blood pounding in his ears as he switched the control disc to his good hand. His father’s side. He cocked his arm back, feeling the pulse building, a tingling through his arm.

Roaring, Starkiller bent and drove the spear of its skull into his chest. Again. Again. Ben screamed. The pain burned, white-hot agony. He was on fire. 

As the kaiju lunged once more, Ben roared back at it, heaving his arm forward. The cannon flashed. Starkiller was filled with light.

* * *

Leia could not look away from the screen. The pulse cannon’s last shot had wiped out the kaiju signature. But the Millennium Falcon’s was gone, too. She watched, frozen, as R2 refreshed the system again and again, trying to find some sign of her son in the vast ocean.

As the people around her panicked, Marshall Leia Organa remained a bastion of stillness, her only movement the tears rolling down her cheeks. 

* * *

On the island, the rain lightened to a fine drizzle, a chill damp in the moments before dawn. The people on the island waited, watching. They could hear the large steps through the waves, the creaking of metallic joints.

As dawn broke, the silver and white jaeger rounded the cliffs of the island, stumbling up the beach. It staggered on the slope, stumbling and falling onto the sand. At the last moment, its one remaining hand reached out, planting into the ground, the cockpit coming in to rest beside it. 

A child ran forward as the life left the machine, and the rest of the crowd followed. The cockpit had been ripped open in the fight, and a pilot stumbled out as they approached. He climbed over the mounds of dirt his landing had created, gasping for air. As the crowd reached him, he collapsed, blood from his face and his side painting his white suit red.

“Dad.” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Dad...”

Someone grabbed his hand, and Ben Solo’s eyes slid closed. 


	2. Flotsam and Jetsam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years later, a young scavenger has a run-in with Luke Skywalker...

**Los Angeles Wall of Life, Year 36 of the Kaiju War**

A crowd of men and women shuffled around the scrapyard, eyes squinted against the day’s brightness. Everyone there looked tired, dirt caked into their clothes and skin. When the boss arrived, every eye in the place was trained on him. The man was large and his gut even larger, evidence of too many beers at night.

“There’s work today,” he said, “for them that want to eat.”

The already quiet worksite went still as a grave. The wind sighed, bringing with it the scent of the ocean and the oily machines already at work further along the coastal wall.

“Three folks died yesterday. Their spots are now open.” The boss grinned. “Jaeger fresh from the fight. Still covered in kaiju blue.”

Most of the crowd deflated, almost imperceptibly. One man chewed his lip, thinking, while another turned and left outright. The blue kaiju blood was highly toxic, and protective gear was in short supply.

“Who wants to work?” The boss growled. “Who wants to eat today?”

A hand shot into the air, barely visible above the crowd. People standing nearby stepped to the side, revealing a small girl. She was slim and wiry, a teenager who set her jaw and looked the boss dead in the eye. She stretched her hand an inch higher into the air.

His eyes narrowed, but the boss pulled out a red work pass. “Name, girl?”

The girl adjusted her backpack over her shoulders and stepped forward, the hand that was up in the air now extended in front of her, waiting for the pass.

“Rey Niima,” she said.

#

No one climbed as high as Rey did on the wrecked jaegers, and no one seemed to enjoy it more. After clipping her safety strap to the plate she worked on, the girl stood and looked out over the ocean for a moment. The wind blew through her hair as if trying to pull it out of its tight bun, and Rey squinted her eyes at the bright light reflected off the water. Eventually she sat down, pulling a safety mask she’d made herself over her face as she got to work.

This high up, there was no one to notice if pieces of scrap disappeared into Rey’s backpack. The bosses wouldn’t go this high, and the other workers were too busy minding their feet. Rey worked quickly, snatching pieces without looking as she took the jaeger apart. When she’d finished stripping a section she unclipped, swung around the side of the mech to a new section, and slid down to the next spot that needed work.

The day passed quickly this way until the bell rang at five, signaling to the workers to get in line for their rations. Rey was one of the last there, the trade-off for working so high up, but her tray was loaded with a double portion of stew and an extra roll of bread. 

One of the other workers, a wide man about her height, blocked her path to the meal tables. He glared, bloodshot eyes flicking from her face to the food. 

“Some of us didn’t eat today, girl,” he said. “You should share.”

“Then volunteer for the hard work then, if you’re so hungry,” Rey replied.

Sneering, the man leaned forward to snatch the bread from her tray. She waited until the last second, then dodged to the side. Stepping smoothly around him, food in one hand, Rey elbowed him in the back with her free arm. Her opponent went sprawling into the dirt. By the time he got back up, Rey had already found a seat and begun wolfing down her stew. The man slunk off, defeated.

Even eating, she kept a sharp watch, eyes glancing back and forth. Halfway through her stew, she spotted two children at the edge of the meal tent, their eyes hopeful. Rey slowed, chewing on a piece of potato. She glanced down at what remained of her stew and bread, then back at the children. Sighing, Rey stood up and walked toward the children, shoving the meal tray in their hands before stomping off.

“Thank you!” One of them cried. Rey didn’t turn, but she did walk a little more lightly.

_Didn’t need all of that today, anyway,_ she thought. _I’ve got a project to finish._

#

A mile away from the Wall of Life and the jaeger junkyard were several abandoned factories. When the kaiju had come and insurance for beachfront property had skyrocketed, companies had picked up and left. The families who couldn’t afford to move took shelter in the old buildings. As for herself, Rey had found a large maintenance building, two stories high. She’d hacked the security systems and made her home there, a secure bunker for her to tinker in.

She pressed a hand to the door pad, waiting for the _thunk_ of the locks before swinging the door open. The overhead lights flickered on as she walked in, as well as a beat-up, patched-together television in the corner.

_“And in today’s news, it’s been five years since the Jaeger Program began its downward spiral, starting with the loss of Millennium Falcon. That trend continues today with the loss of Rogue Shadow, which was destroyed in battle with the kaiju codenamed ‘Dark Assassin’ in Manila. Both pilots, Galen Marek and Juno Eclipse, were killed. Our thoughts and prayers go to their families, but one question remains: Are the Jaegers still worth the cost?”_

The television prattled on as Rey walked into what had once been the garage for car repair and now contained what appeared to be a large hunk of metal. Upon closer inspection, however, the humanoid frame stood out. The disparate pieces of metal had been put together with no concern for aesthetics, but purely for function. Rey set her backpack on the ground and gazed fondly at the machine.

“Just about ready,” she said to it. “Another night of work, and you’ll be a real jaeger.”

It had taken years to scrounge for every piece of metal, let alone the advanced wiring and circuitry she’d needed. But the scrapyard was the one used by the local Shatterdome, and every time a Jaeger was broken, pieces of it ended up there. By her calculations, her jaeger was made from pieces of ten others.

As Rey pulled on her goggles and welding torch, she blocked out the rest of the world. Just a few more pieces. Just a few more, and she’d have a Jaeger. She could fight.

Sparks flew, and the TV droned on.

_“...sought an interview with Skywalker, he refused to comment. Luke Skywalker is expected to visit the Los Angeles Wall of Life this week to assess the project’s viability going forward. Up next, we discuss the hottest new inland vacation spots...”_

#

“Okay, final checks,” Rey said, leaning forward in the cockpit. There were wires everywhere; from the control panels, from the bike helmet on her head, from the control pads on her hands and feet. Nothing matched and one alert kept blinking no matter what she did, despite everything working. The mech had been plugged in for hours to power up, sucking electricity from the local grid like a vampire.

It was perfect.

**_System charged_** flashed on the screen. Rey grinned. “Time to try walking, Scavenger.”

She took a careful step forward, rocking in the rig she’d designed like a gyroscope. Scavenger matched her movement. Rey lifted her arms, shifting in the rig enough that it swung, and she was forced to take a step back. Scavenger staggered, the motion throwing her off even more.

“Not quite what I was expecting,” Rey said. She eyed the readout on her screen. “I’ll need to adjust the sensitivity--”

**“CIVILIAN! WE HAVE DETECTED UNAUTHORIZED USE OF JAEGER TECHNOLOGY IN THIS LOCATION. YOU ARE TO EXIT THE BUILDING AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP.”**

Every window of the warehouse was suddenly filled with flashing red and blue light, bright against the weak gray of dawn. Rey brought up the external sensors and sure enough, several security vehicles were parked right outside. 

“No no no no no...” she muttered. “I just finished building her!”

**“I REPEAT, COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR.”**

Rey stilled. She felt heat building up in her chest, and she clenched her hands. “No,” she said, “I think not.”

#

Another car pulled up outside the warehouse, and a gentleman wearing the uniform of the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps stepped out of the backseat. His hair, light brown and streaked with gray, showed his advancing years. But his blue eyes were still sharp and piercing, and as his gaze swept over the scene more than one person stood a little straighter.

“Commander Skywalker, sir,” one of the security officers stepped forward, inclining his head briefly. “We weren’t aware that you would be here.”

“PPDC comm chatter says that you’ve got an illegal jaeger in there,” Skywalker replied, nodding his head at the warehouse. “I was close by, so I couldn’t resist. Beats inspecting a damn wall, anyway.”

**“THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING! COME OUT NOW WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”** Another security officer shouted into a megaphone while the others began to spread out, encircling the building.

“You may want to step back, sir,” said the officer closest to Skywalker. “This could get rough.”

Before Luke could respond, the front wall of the warehouse exploded.

A round mech around fifteen feet tall smashed through brick and mortar, then paused in the cloud of debris. Its two arms lifted into the sky. One of its hands looked like a shovel.

Before the security team could react, the mech threw itself forward, limbs tucking into its body to form a ball. It rolled, using one of the cars as a ramp to launch itself into the air. It flew down the block, finally landing with a crunch at the far end of the street.

“Is it down?” One of the officers asked.

The mech unfolded itself and took off running.

“I doubt it,” Skywalker replied.

#

Rey rounded another corner, heart pounding. She wasn’t sure how far she needed to go to avoid capture, but she didn’t feel safe yet. Where could she go? Where would Scavenger be safe? Maybe the junkyard? They’d blend right in with all the other jaeger pieces, and there wouldn’t be many people there this early.

Her plan set, Rey ran through the empty streets, grateful for the early hour. The junkyard was soon in sight, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Almost there...

A wall of metal slammed down in front of her, and Scavenger skidded to a halt. What the--was that a foot? 

Rey’s screen lit up, and she swiped through the image, pulling up the data. It was...oh no. 

One of the oldest jaegers still in service loomed over her, several times taller than Scavenger. Its dull black hull was occasionally marked with a red design familiar to jaeger groupies like herself. And if she didn’t already know it, the red viewport would have been a dead giveaway. 

They’d sent First Order to capture her. 

It hadn’t occurred to her that they would pull one of the jaegers from the nearby Shatterdome for this, but it made sense. Rey swallowed, her fingers twitching on the control pads. 

“Get out of there now,” said a snide voice over the comms. “You will turn yourself in immediately and--hey!”

Scavenger tucked and rolled between First Order’s legs, making a beeline for the junkyard. The larger jaeger turned to pursue, but it was much slower than she was. Scavenger dove into the piles of scrap, disappearing among the junk it had been made from.

Rey burrowed deep and then started turning systems off. Maybe if they couldn’t find her energy signature on scan, she could wait them out.

The metal above her shook, and something grabbed Scavenger, lifting them out of the junk pile. First Order held her high in the air, eye to eye with its cockpit. The two pilots inside did not look pleased. Rey smiled weakly and waved. Then she pressed a button to release the coolant system.

A gush of freezing chemicals poured out from Scavenger all over First Order’s hand. Startled, the jaeger dropped her. Rey was immediately on the move, rolling between the bigger mech’s legs. Once behind it she shot two grenades, aiming each for the back joint of the jaeger’s foot. They didn’t do too much damage--jaegers were built to take more punishment than that--but as she rolled away again and First Order moved to pursue, it seemed to have a noticeable limp.

“You’re going to pay for that!” Screeched the snide pilot’s voice over the comm.

“Sorry,” Rey replied, not sorry at all, “I’m broke.”

She turned, crashing through an abandoned building as an overheating warning flashed on her display. Scavenger tumbled over the rubble, looking for a place to hide and cool down. She smashed through the other side of the building only to find First Order waiting for her.

Rey tried to turn and move again, but it was too late. A powerful blow knocked her against Scavenger’s insides. Electricity ran through the tiny jaeger, knocking out all of the systems she’d worked so hard to build. Too late, she remembered that First Order had a stunner built into one of its fists. Then she blacked out.

#

It didn’t take long before Rey was sitting in the back of a PPDC security car, hands cuffed behind her. Rey sighed and leaned her head back against the seat. First Order’s pilots were giving their report to the officers now. Soon she’d be at a juvenile corrections facility, or possibly worse. She wasn’t sure what the punishment was exactly for building a jaeger from scratch. At least they’d rolled down the back window and she could get some air.

“So. How did that feel?”

Rey jumped. An older man was leaning on the door, his face in the window. She hadn’t even heard him approach. “What?”

“How did it feel riding in a jaeger?” The man had bright blue eyes that seemed like they could read her mind.

“It felt...it was amazing. For a few minutes, anyway.” Rey narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”

“I’m a teacher,” he replied. “Did you build that thing yourself?”

“Yes. It took four years.”

“Think you could do it again?”

Rey blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Could you do it again? Building a jaeger, riding in it?”

She thought about all of the long nights that had gone into building Scavenger. The frustration over her failures, the exhilaration of success. The thrill in that brief moment she had piloted a jaeger.

“Absolutely.”

The man nodded, then turned to the officer standing behind him. “We’ll confiscate the jaeger of course,” he said. “But I think this one’s a good candidate. Take the cuffs off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rey was pulled from the back of the car, her cuffs unlocked, and she looked at the man again. She took in the uniform, the bars on his shoulder, the slight scar on his face. “Who are you really,” she asked.

“Luke Skywalker,” he replied, “I’m in charge of the Jaeger Academy for the PPDC. We train cadets to be Rangers.”

“Wait,” Rey said, stumbling back against the car. “Luke Skywalker? _The_ Luke Skywalker? The jaeger pilot?”

“I usually don’t put a ‘the’ in front of it, but yeah, that’s me. Look, you’ve got potential, and we need good Rangers these days, now more than ever. You interested?”

He held out his hand, and Rey looked from it to his face. He seemed sincere. Apparently, the punishment for building an illegal jaeger was getting to pilot one legally. 

She took his hand and shook it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks to those who commented and bookmarked this story with only one chapter released from an author with a long history of leaving work unfinished. I'm still plugging away at it, and if ever a day comes when I KNOW that I just can't finish it, I'll post the outline I made. 
> 
> Hope you like where this is going so far!

**Author's Note:**

> I first started working on this in January 2018, fizzing with excitement from The Last Jedi. Now I hope spite will fuel me to complete it.


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